into Victor Wolff on the way back to the house. He was slightly stoop-shouldered, and his almost bald head glistened with sweat. From what Olivia had gleaned from the private investigator and from a variety of internet sources, Victor had been a decade and a half older than his short-lived bride… which meant he must now be banging on the door of seventy.
The old man stared at Cammie with an expression that made Olivia’s heart pound with anxiety. He shot a glance at Olivia. “The child has beautiful eyes. Very unusual.”
Olivia held her ground, battling an atavistic need to tuck her baby under her wing. “Yes, she may grow up to be a beauty like my mother.”
Cammie had no interest in adult conversation. She started picking flowers and dancing among the swaying fronds of a large weeping willow that cast a broad patch of shade. Victor’s eyes followed her wistfully. “I may die before I get to see any grandchildren. Gareth is the only one of my sons who is married, and he and Gracie have decided to wait a bit to start their family.”
“Are you ill?” Olivia asked bluntly.
He shook his head, still tracking the child’s movements. “A bad heart. If I watch what I eat and remember to exercise, my son, the doc, says I probably have a few thousand more miles under the hood.”
“But you don’t believe him?”
“None of us knows how many days we have on this earth.”
“I’m sorry about your wife, Mr. Wolff. I can’t imagine how hard that must have been losing her so young.”
He shrugged. “We argued that day. Before she left to go shopping. She wanted to let the boys take piano lessons and I thought it was a sissy endeavor. I told her so in no uncertain terms.”
“And then she died.”
“Yes.” He aged before her eyes. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, Olivia.”
“We all do, sir.”
“Perhaps. But I almost ruined my sons, keeping them locked up like prisoners. My brother, Vincent, was the same. Six children between us, vulnerable little babies. I was terrified, you know. My brother and I both were.”
“That’s understandable.” She began to feel a reluctant sympathy for the frail patriarch.
Suddenly his eyes shot fire at her, and the metamorphosis was so unexpected that Olivia actually took a step backward. “Kieran’s a good boy. It’s not his fault that the memories here keep him away.”
“We all have our own demons to face,” Olivia said. “But children shouldn’t have to suffer for our mistakes.”
“Are you talking about me or about you?”
His candor caught her off guard. “I suppose it could be either,” she said slowly. “But know this, Mr. Wolff. I will do anything to protect my daughter.”
He actually chuckled, a rusty sound that seemed to surprise him as much as it did her. “I like you, Olivia. Too bad I didn’t have a daughter to take after my dear Laura.”
Olivia couldn’t think of a response to that, so she held her peace, walking beside Kieran’s father as the three of them made their way back to the house.
Kieran saw the three of them approach the house. He was watching from an upstairs window. Part of him resented the fact that his father was sharing time with Olivia and Cammie, something Kieran had intended as the primary focus of the weekend. But anger boiled in his veins, and he was afraid that if he snapped and confronted Olivia in Cammie’s presence, the child would be frightened.
Still, it was time for a showdown, and since nothing appeared to mitigate the harshness of the rage that gripped him, Olivia had better beware.
Dinner was an awkward affair with only the four of them. Jacob had been called way unexpectedly, and Gareth and Gracie were still in the honeymoon phase of their marriage, enjoying time together at home alone.
Cammie behaved beautifully at the overly formal table, conversing easily with Kieran and smiling shyly when Victor Wolff addressed her. Olivia was pale and quiet, perhaps sensing that a storm was brewing. The courses passed slowly. At last, Victor pushed back from the table. “I’ll leave you young people to it. If you’ll excuse an old man, I’m going upstairs to put on my slippers and sit by the fire.”
Cammie wrinkled her nose as he left. “A fire? That’s silly. It’s summertime.”
Kieran smiled, loving how bright she was, how aware of her surroundings. “You’re right about that, little one. But my father has his eccentricities, and we all adjust.”
“X cin…” She gave up trying to replicate the difficult word.
Olivia leaned over to remove crumbs from her daughter’s chin with a napkin. “It means that Mr. Wolff has lived a long time and he sometimes does strange things.”
“Like when Jojo puts hot sauce on his ice cream.”
Olivia grinned. “Something like that.”
Kieran saw himself suddenly as if from a distance, sitting at a table with his lover and their child. Anyone peering in the window would see a family, a unit of three. A mundane but extraordinarily wonderful relationship built on love, not lies.
But appearances were deceiving.
So abruptly that Olivia frowned, he stood up and tossed his napkin on the table. “Why don’t I tuck Cammie in tonight? Is that okay with you, Olivia?”
He saw the refusal ready to tumble automatically from her lips, but she stopped and inhaled sharply, her hands clenching the edge of the table. “I suppose that would be fine. What do you think, Cammie?”
“Sure. Let’s go, Kieran. Do you have any boats to play with in your bathtub?”
After they were gone, the silence resonated. Olivia realized that she was inconveniencing the waitstaff as long as she sat at the table, so she got up, as well. There were so many rooms in the huge house, it was easy to get lost. Not wanting to be too far away from Cammie, she found a staircase that led to the second floor and walked toward her suite. When she could hear laughter and splashing from the bathroom, she paused in the sitting room to call her mother.
Lolita’s well-modulated voice answered on the first ring. “Hello, darling. How’s the visit with your school friend?”
Olivia might possibly have fudged a bit on the details of her trip. “Going well. But I’m worried about you and Dad. Anything else from your psycho fan?”
“Don’t be so cruel, Olivia. Men can’t help falling in love with me. It’s the characters on the screen, of course, but I play them so well, they seem genuine and warm, especially to someone who has already experienced a disconnect with reality. We should have compassion for the poor soul who is obsessed with me.”
Olivia’s mother had no problem with self-esteem. But her nonchalance seemed shortsighted. Olivia might have been even more worried were it not for the fact that Javier Delgado took his responsibilities as a husband very seriously. He was narcissistic to a fault, but he did love his tempestuous wife, and he had the bodyguards and manpower to prove it.
“Still, Mom, please be vigilant. Don’t let down your guard.”
“It’s a tempest in a teapot, Olivia. Just a sad man wanting attention. Quit worrying.”
“Has he sent more emails?”
“A few. The police are monitoring my computer.”
“What did the notes say?”
“More of the same. Threats to me and the people I love. But you and Cammie are in a safe place for now, and your father and I are well taken care